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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27077638">life is what happens when you are busy making other plans</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/probee/pseuds/probee'>probee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCIS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s10e24 Damned If You Do, Episode: s11e01 Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, F/M, Season 11 au, in which tiva get their happy ending when they were supposed to, vague references to season 10 and 11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 01:33:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,055</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27077638</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/probee/pseuds/probee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>How would life have changed if timing had been just a little different?</p><p>Following their resignation from NCIS, Tony, Ziva and McGee try to find their footing in their unexpectedly rudderless existence. When they get called back in for a case, they might not be ready for what they find.</p><p>(j/k. It's mostly fluff with some friendship feels thrown in.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>life is what happens when you are busy making other plans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>After "Damned If You Do", "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot" and "Past, Present and Future" aired in reruns the other day, it made me wistful for what could have been if Tony had just left his apartment two minutes earlier and got on the damn plane. </p><p>This was written in one day without much proofreading, so apologies for all typos. Also, apologies for totally messing up the actual case in those three episodes. I only vaguely paid attention to the plot, and it doesn't matter for my purposes, so I bent it to my will. So, evidently, I played fast and loose with the timeline.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A week ago, Timothy McGee’s biggest worry was finding a new job after quitting the one he’d held for a decade.</p><p>
Today, he is back in the hallowed orange-toned walls of NCIS, the entire building frantic with activity after the most recent disaster to befall their city. Before he knows it, his is reinstated (“<i>I’ve come to learn that there should be a two week cooling-off period before processing any termination paperwork in this agency</i>,” Director Vance told him as he handed back his badge) and it’s like the investigation of the last few months that nearly ended all of their careers never happened.
</p><p>
Tensions run higher with every passing day, and it quickly becomes clear that reinforcements are needed.  Gibbs hasn’t been home in days, and his jumpiness is rubbing off on the remaining team.
</p><p>
“This guy, Parsa, if he’s out for the team, that means none of us are safe. Any of you hear from Tony or Ziva lately?” 
</p><p>
“Last I heard, David was still in Israel. Haven’t heard from DiNozzo since he resigned,” Vance offers, unhelpfully as it turns out.
</p><p>
McGee mentally wrestles whether or not to pipe in, but his mouth makes the choice before his brain has time to stop him.
</p><p>
“Um, he, uh— he left for Tel Aviv last week.”
</p><p>
The Director’s eyes narrow at him from the landing above the bullpen. “<i>Really</i>.”
</p><p>
The younger agent sputters, quickly trying to do damage control, until Tony’s parting words on the phone before he boarded his flight <i>in case of this very scenario</i> echo in his brain. 
</p><p>
“Yeah, um, he said he’d travel for good hummus?”
</p><p>
Well, it seemed like a good idea three seconds ago. Now that his boss’ boss is staring him down with the most unamused of expressions, he wonders what the odds are of a meteor crashing through the skylight and putting him out of his misery. How does he get caught up in his friends’ idiocy when they aren’t even on the same continent anymore?
</p><p>
<i>It’s fine, this is fine, nothing to worry about</i>, he tells himself. After all, they are all adults. Technically speaking, they don’t even work together anymore. There are no rules. How were they supposed to know another criminal mastermind was going to be hot on their trails?
</p><p>
Still, he can’t escape the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that he should be covering for his friends. Even if he doesn’t know what he’s covering for.
</p><p>
<i>Goddammit</i>. 
</p><p>
+++
</p><p>
He has a sneaking suspicion that they are avoiding his calls. He doesn’t want to think of why.
</p><p>
Eventually, though, he catches the green notification light next to Ziva’s name on his friend list as he scrolls through the screen, and he quickly types another message.
</p><p>
<i>Ziva, seriously, I really don’t mean to bug you, but you need to talk to Vance. There was an incident with SecNav. Related to Parsons investigation. Dir. thinks we might all be in danger, even you guys. You need to check in with him.</i>
</p><p>
He immediately adds: <i>Also, sorry about ruining your vacation. Hopefully this blows over soon. I miss you guys</i>.
</p><p>
He expects the messages to remain unread indefinitely, as has every other attempt the past day and a half, but to his surprise, the ellipses quickly reveal a response.
</p><p>
<i>Thank you McGee. I am so sorry you were worried. We were visiting. We will take cover and find a safe way to communicate as soon as possible</i>.
</p><p>
He breathes a sigh of relief.
</p><p>
(He doesn’t think about what “visiting” they were doing.)
</p><p>
<i>Tony would also like you to know that you are a good friend and that he will talk to you later</i>.
</p><p>
+++
</p><p>
Twelve hours later, his phone pings.
</p><p>
<i>Just for the record, what I actually told her to say is that you are a grade-A McCockblock</i>. 
</p><p>
He rolls his eyes.
</p><p>
<i>Seriously, though, thank you, McFirst Alert. We’re safe. Called some friends in high places, if you catch my drift. So much for civilian life, huh? </i>
</p><p>
+++
</p><p>
Things are unnervingly quiet for weeks. After the initial rush following the explosion that killed the Secretary of the Navy, trails have gone cold, and they are all on edge in D.C. Gibbs has been to Tehran and back, with their sworn enemy Richard Parsons, and came back practically offering the guy a job. It’s Bizarro World.
</p><p>
One day, Vance calls the senior agent and McGee into MTAC for an urgent meeting.
</p><p>
They walk in to find Ziva, Tony, and Mossad Director Elbaz on the big screen. 
</p><p>
“You lose your shaving kit, DiNozzo?”
</p><p>
He unconsciously strokes his emerging scruff. 
</p><p>
“Uh, other priorities, Boss.”
</p><p>
“Not your boss anymore.”
</p><p>
“Well, you’re always going to be Boss in my heart, Boss.”
</p><p>
Ziva rolls her eyes. Orli purses her lips and huffs. “May we continue, gentlemen, or should we be sending flowers?”
</p><p>
(<i>Americans are so sentimental</i>, she thinks. <i>No wonder they cannot find Benham Parsa by themselves</i>.)
</p><p>
Ziva chimes in: “We think we may have found something.”
</p><p>
For the first time in what feels like forever, there is hope.
</p><p>
+++
</p><p>
Spring turns into summer, and the case evolves in fits and bursts. Mossad helps to track down one of the cells — the one threatening Ziva and Tony — and it seems, for short time at least, that they may be able to escape, just as they’d planned. 
</p><p>
“We’re not exactly going underground, but we’re gonna lay low for awhile. Wait for the dust to settle.”
</p><p>
McGee can’t help but notice how casually the <i>we</i>’s are slipping into Tony’s speech now.
</p><p>
“Cell service is spotty where we’re gonna be. If anything urgent comes up, have Vance get in touch with Orli. She’ll know how to find us.”
</p><p>
“Got it. Stay safe, Tony. Ziva too.”
</p><p>
“Thanks. McLoving You Long Time.”
</p><p>
The junior agent smiles to himself. He really misses his friends.
</p><p>
+++
</p><p>
Agents come and go inside the  Major Case Response Team, trying to fill a bottomless hole. Instead of finding immediate replacements, they rotate in a team of experts in their fields, each lending their experience to try to find their latest bad guy.
</p><p>
One day, McGee comes across an old NSA report in the Parsa file, and it piques his interest. He pays a visit to the young analyst who wrote the article, only to find her sitting cross-legged in the corner of a library, music blasting from her headphones, looking more like a college co-ed than an intelligence professional. 
</p><p>
“Ms. Bishop, I’m Special Agent Timothy McGee with NCIS, and we’d like to ask you a few questions.”
</p><p>
“It finally happened, didn’t it?”
</p><p>
His face is puzzled. She beams.
</p><p>
+++
</p><p>
Eleanor Bishop’s temporary assignment to NCIS feels more and more permanent with every passing day. She might not fill that hole, but she’s created a whole new one of her own that they didn’t know they had. By October, chatter starts to pick up again, and the intel indicates that another attack may be imminent. 
</p><p>
The director’s stance visibly stiffens.
</p><p>
“I think it’s time to call in the troops.”
</p><p>
+++
</p><p>
The elevator dings the following evening, and a familiar voice breaks the click-click of keyboards typing across the bullpen.
</p><p>
“People of the Pumpkin Kingdom, behold! The prodigal agent has returned!”
</p><p>
Tony has his arms raised in mock exhaltation. Ziva elbows him in the side. (“<i>Tony</i>!” she hisses, but there is no bite.)  He feigns irritation, but he can’t help the smile across his face. 
</p><p>
McGee is shocked at how tan and relaxed they look; they saunter in, Ziva in her linen pants and cotton shirt, and Tony in jeans and a casual button-up, and they seem like they have just returned from an extended holiday, not risking their lives. (“<i>Well, when we left in May, we didn’t exactly plan to be gone for six months, so neither of us had any colder weather clothes for the trip home. I promise we will find some appropriately dour and ill-fitting suits made out of man-made materials the next time we stop by</i>.”) Despite that, however, their faces reflect the exhaustion of almost eighteen hours of travel. While Tony’s beard masks some of his fatigue, Ziva looks particularly ashen, her pale face in stark contrast to her honey-tinged skin. 
</p><p>
He gets up to meet his friends, pulling Ziva into a hug, then surprised when Tony pulls him into a bear hug of his own. 
</p><p>
“Good flight?”
</p><p>
“There was, uh, a lot of turbulence. I am glad to have both feet back on the ground.” She forces a faint smile 
</p><p>
(McGee is so relieved to be talking to them in the flesh that he doesn’t notice Tony resting his hand on the small of Ziva’s back at her rare admission of discomfort.)
</p><p>
“Looks like you got that vacation after all, Tony.”
</p><p>
“Work smarter, not harder, McJealous.”
</p><p>
“I think we’re in for an all-nighter. You guys want some coffee before we get started?”
</p><p>
“I really shouldn’t, I am not supp— You know what, forget it, I have not slept in two days and it does not look like that will change anytime soon,” Ziva answers him. “Get me the tallest cup of coffee you can find, please and thank you.”
</p><p>
“Ditto.”
</p><p>
McGee stares Tony down. “You know where the coffee machine is.”
</p><p>
His former colleague breaks into a Cheshire-cat grin. “Ah, but I am a mere guest at this fine establishment now.”
</p><p>
“You are enjoying this way too much.”
</p><p>
“That I am.”
</p><p>
Their friend heads down the hall to fetch them sustenance in the break room, and returns a few minutes later with two cups of barely-passable joe. In these desperate times, beggars can’t be choosers.
</p><p>
Tony winces after taking a sip (“<i>Yep, still garbage</i>,” he mutters into the cup), while Ziva shuts her eyes as she inhales the acrid scent. 
</p><p>
“How are you drinking that?!”
</p><p>
“Unlike you, I do not require ten pounds of sugar in my coffee to drink it, because I am a grown-up.”
</p><p>
“<i>Blech</i>.”
</p><p>
She shifts her gaze from her partner, to their companion, with a pointed sigh. “McGee, since we are indeed guests at NCIS, would you kindly accompany us into MTAC so that we can get started?”
</p><p>
“With pleasure,” he smiles, and they fall into line behind him to follow his lead up to their situation room, where their very grown-up duties await. 
</p><p>
+++
</p><p>
It’s a party up in MTAC.
</p><p>
Well, if by party, one means several high-level analysts, directors, agents, and a grizzled former marine. 
</p><p>
“Nice of you to join us.”
</p><p>
“Thanks for the invitation.”
</p><p>
Gibbs squints at the newest arrivals for a second, sizing them up, before returning to the data on the screen in front of him. 
</p><p>
(Tony and Ziva stand stoically, but inside they are painfully aware of scrutinizing eyes.)
</p><p>
“Well, whaddya got?”
</p><p>
They settle in for a long night.
</p><p>
+++
</p><p>
Dusk dances into dawn, into high-noon, and they are all so tired that they cannot see straight. Yet they prove that they always work best when they are together, and by early evening, they’ve zero’ed in on Parsa’s probable location. Coordination with various military forces ensue, and while the henchman evades capture, his fleet is all but destroyed, buying them a little time and respite for the moment, hopefully thwarting any imminent attack. 
</p><p>
They will live to fight another day. 
</p><p>
About two hours later, debriefings are completed, and most of the team has been dismissed for the night. There is a sense of elation, the way there always is when a mission is accomplished, even if they know their victory will be short-lived. 
</p><p>
“You gotta admit, that felt good.”
</p><p>
“I do acknowledge that that was satisfying, <i>yes</i>, McGoo.”
</p><p>
“Bishop, Abby and I are going to head down to McGuinty’s for a drink to celebrate. Delilah’s gonna meet us there. Ellie’s husband may even join us. You guys should come.”
</p><p>
“Surveillance Barbie is <i>married</i>? What is she, fourteen?”
</p><p>
His sharp-elbowed him companion jabs him in the ribs, wordlessly urging him to play nice.
</p><p>
“Thank you for the offer, McGee,” Ziva drawls his name out like a song, “but I think we will have to pay a rain check.” Tony stifles a retort. “I am about ready to pass out.”
</p><p>
“Of course, you had a long couple of days.” He stalls, unsure of how to broach what he really wants to ask, until he musters the courage. “Are you guys coming home? I mean, for good?”
</p><p>
(Because it is clear that they are a <i>they</i>, and these questions are now a package deal.)
</p><p>
“We have a lot to think about,” Ziva offers, “But what we can definitely promise is dinner with you and Delilah in the next couple of days?”
</p><p>
“It’s a date.” He hugs her, then shakes Tony’s hand, before taking his leave with the other agents.
</p><p>
It feels like old times.
</p><p>
+++
</p><p>
When Gibbs makes his way down the stairs after night has fallen, he is surprised to find his two former agents still in the bullpen, sitting on Ziva’s desk, their legs outstretched, just like they would have months earlier, before everything changed. 
</p><p>
“I thought everyone was heading out for a drink. You should join them.”
</p><p>
“We’re gonna pass for tonight. Think it’s time to catch some z’s.”
</p><p>
He fixes his eyes on the pair.
</p><p>
“You did good today. I hear Vance held onto your badges for you while you were gone.”
</p><p>
“Yeah, like we just spent the last five months at Club Med.”
</p><p>
The older man’s lips twitch up. Point taken.
</p><p>
“So, <i>are</i> you coming back?”
</p><p>
Tony and Ziva turn to each other, each taking a deep breath, before answering.
</p><p>
“We have not decided yet.”
</p><p>
His ghost of a smile fades and he is back to business, prompting them for more.
</p><p>
“If we do come back, there is going to be a matter of… <i>protocol</i>.”
</p><p>
“Protocol?” Gibbs is confused, until it dawns on him what they are concerned about. “What, you mean Rule 12? Ah, geez, we’re way past that now. That’s the worst-kept secret in the Navy Yard. It wouldn’t be the first time agents who were romantically involved worked together. I’d be more worried about you two killing each other before it actually affected your work.”
</p><p>
“That’s not the only concern.”
</p><p>
“No? Then what?”
</p><p>
The man and woman before him turn to each other again, as though having a silent conversation. He notices Ziva’s grip gets a little tighter on the desktop behind her, while Tony’s fingers gently tap hers. Her partner raises his eyebrows at her, and she nods at him, before shifting back to her mentor. She takes another deep breath.
</p><p>
“I’m pregnant.”
</p><p>
That was certainly not what Gibbs expected to hear. He is dumbfounded for a moment, but when he picks his jaw up off the floor, his exasperation is palpable. 
</p><p>
“Ah, <i>geez</i>, I knew leaving you two alone would lead to trouble. DiNozzo, you were supposed to bring her home, not knock her up.”
</p><p>
Two sets of eyes widen. Tony holds his breath, while Ziva bites the inside of her cheek. They were ready for some sort of backlash, but preparing for the oncoming onslaught has them on pins and needles.
</p><p>
That is, until he breaks into an ear-to-ear grin and laughs whole-heartedly. 
</p><p>
“I’m only kidding!” It takes them a second to register the change in his tone, and slowly relief washes over them. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. You shoulda seen the looks on your faces. After all these years, I figured I was allowed one freebie.” They let themselves laugh, softly, at the predicament in which they currently find themselves.
</p><p>
“Are you happy?”
</p><p>
“Yes. Very,” Ziva replies without hesitation, tears beginning to well in her eyes. “Surprised, but happy.”
</p><p>
He chuckles at her candor. “Then I am happy for you. Both of you.” He bridges the divide between them to wrap his protégé in his arms, then kisses her on the temple. She returns the embrace, soothed that this relationship is one she can count on as soundly as the one with her partner. Gibbs next hugs Tony and pats his back, in a rare display of intimacy between the men. 
</p><p>
“You’re gonna be a great mom, Ziver.”
</p><p>
“I guess we will see about that.” He reads the doubt across her face, and it pains him that she’s ever been made to feel like she is anything less than worthy. 
</p><p>
“Trust me, you are. And Tony, you’re going to be a great dad.”
</p><p>
The expectant father beams at this.
</p><p>
“<i>Dad</i>. That still sounds surreal. Guess the bar is pretty low in our family, so it won’t take much to rise above it, right?”
</p><p>
“Nah, you’re gonna be great in your own right.”
</p><p>
“Thanks, Boss.”
</p><p>
At some point in the conversation, Tony’s hand has found its way to Ziva’s back again, the physical connection grounding them both. 
</p><p>
She wipes away a stray tear, and Gibbs notices that she seems to shake off the last of her nerves and put her game face back on. 
</p><p>
“I am only nine weeks along. We are going to wait until after the first trimester before telling people, but we thought you should know, in case that changes things.”
</p><p>
“Yeah, well, it will change things.” Tony and Ziva sober. “Babies change things. But, that doesn’t mean you can’t still do your jobs. There will always be a place for you here, if you want it.”
</p><p>
They smile gently in return, grateful for their boss’ continued faith in them, even when they sometimes lack that faith in themselves.
</p><p>
“Thank you, Gibbs.”
</p><p>
“It’s late. You guys should go home and get some rest. You’re gonna need it.”
</p><p>
“I think we’re gonna take you up on that, Boss.” (Because, yes, he is still <i>Boss</i>.) 
</p><p>
They say their goodbyes, with promises all around to eat real meals and get real sleep and keep in touch over the coming days. Gibbs riffles through his desk for one last sweep before calling it a night, but as he glances over his shoulder at the elevator, he catches sight of Tony taking Ziva’s hand as they walk through the doors, and listens the muffled laughter of their conversation. He can’t help but smile to himself, his eyes twinkling at the thought of where this next chapter will lead.
</p><p>
His father always said that there was nothing like life to get in the way of even the best laid plans. Sometimes, those are even the best parts.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, all of this was inspired by a post on tumblr the other day. It started as an idea for a 4-line drabble and turned into a 3k fic, so I don't even know anymore.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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